


"The Bet"

by lesdemonium (winnerstick), winnerstick



Series: Romtober 2020 [21]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Accidental Relationship, Canon Era, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Gambling, Gay Chicken, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Idiots in Love, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Sort Of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:29:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27133900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winnerstick/pseuds/lesdemonium, https://archiveofourown.org/users/winnerstick/pseuds/winnerstick
Summary: Geralt and Jaskier bet on who can keep up the pretenses of their fake relationship for longer. Somehow, the bet never really ends.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Romtober 2020 [21]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949827
Comments: 33
Kudos: 530





	"The Bet"

**Author's Note:**

> me: posts an angst plot  
> me: posts the fluffiest fluff imaginable the next day
> 
> don't ever say i don't love you guys

It started with a hair-brained scheme, something that absolutely should not have worked. And yet, it did.

“Jaskier, no one is going to believe us as a couple,” Geralt said.

It wasn’t even a good idea in the first place. Jaskier did not need to come to the banquet with a  _ partner _ , but the Countess would be there, and there were rumors she was bringing her new paramour. Jaskier couldn’t bear to be there unattached, so Jaskier had asked Geralt to help him.

“Are you saying you’re not planning on being convincing, my dear witcher? Because if we are found out, it certainly won’t be  _ my _ doing,” Jaskier replied, a mischievous grin on his face that he  _ knew _ Geralt was bound to rise to.

“You couldn’t lie convincingly to save your life,” Geralt said back with a snort.

Jaskier feigned affront. “Excuse  _ me _ . I lie all the time! You’re the one that grows hot under the collar if I even  _ suggest _ deception.”

“You mean to tell me you could spend an entire night surrounded by pretty lords and ladies and  _ not _ flirt with anyone?” Geralt sounded skeptical, and Jaskier would have been truly offended, if Geralt wasn’t in some small way absolutely correct.

“Well, darling, luckily I won’t have to. Because my  _ lover _ will be there with me. Ready to be flirted with relentlessly.”

So they had settled on a wager. It was a silly wager, but so many of their ideas were, and as such this one wasn’t surprising. Whoever broke the charade first lost. Jaskier had forgotten the stakes as soon as they set them, but they never mattered much. At this point, it was about the competition. Jaskier so hated to lose, and Geralt did as well, which was often why their wagers went poorly.

The night was glorious. Everyone, surprisingly, believed them. Jaskier and Geralt did not break character once. Jaskier found it was almost… simple, really. There was an ease and a familiarity there.

“I see you brought your witcher,” the Countess said. Jaskier hadn’t really intended to find himself near her, but it hit a point where avoidance would be rude, and as a public figure, Jaskier could scarcely afford to be rude.

“I did,” Jaskier agreed.

“And he is here as your…”

“Partner, I suppose you could call him. Of a romantic sort.”

The Countess’s smile was genuine now. “Oh, Jaskier, I’m so happy for you. I’m so delighted that things finally worked out between you two!”

Jaskier didn’t quite know how to respond to that, so he simply smiled and made a neutral enough remark back. Luckily, the Countess seemed only bound by the rules of propriety, and she very quickly found herself with another conversational partner.

After the banquet, though, things didn’t  _ stop _ , exactly. At first, Jaskier was convinced it was out of a mutual desire to win the bet. They were still affectionate with each other in public, calling each other pet names like “dear” and “darling” and the like, even the odd kiss or two. But as time wore on, on Jaskier’s end, the affection grew less perfunctory and more… genuine. He didn’t dare bring it up to Geralt, who also seemed to have taken on a more natural air to his tenderness.

Maybe he should have noticed the first time they kissed without an audience. Under the stars, as Geralt was telling Jaskier stories that would never be fit for a song, but had Jaskier howling with laughter until his stomach hurt. They shared a smile and before Jaskier realized, they were both leaning in. It wasn’t their first kiss, not at all, but it was the first kiss that belonged to  _ them _ . Long, soft, and sweet. There was no intent other than the expression of love there--and Jaskier could identify it as love, even then--and when they pulled apart, they shared another smile. Then time ticked on, as if nothing had happened. As if everything hadn’t changed.

They never discussed it. The escalations just came as natural as breathing. When Geralt dismounted Roach--he still rarely let Jaskier ride, the oaf--his hand sought out Jaskier’s. When Jaskier finished performing, Geralt had ale ready for him, and Jaskier slumped into his side, their arms wrapped lazily around each other as they talked and teased. They didn’t ask for separate rooms anymore, and neither Jaskier nor Geralt found themselves in another’s bed.

When they finally fell into bed  _ together _ , it was months later than Jaskier would have expected in usual circumstances. It was amazing, everything he had ever imagined it would be, and yet somehow more. Jaskier had loved and been loved, so many times before, over and over again. The way Geralt loved him, however, was so different from every other lover he’d had. It didn’t need to be put to words; Jaskier could simply feel it in the warmth Geralt left behind when his fingers trailed along Jaskier’s arm, or the soft look Geralt gave Jaskier as Jaskier woke up. 

He shouldn’t have been surprised, then, when they quietly carved out a life for themselves. They had winters at Kaer Morhen, where Geralt introduced him as  _ This is… My Jaskier _ and shrugged helplessly, as if he wasn’t sure what other words to use, but everyone knew his meaning. They had Corvo Bianco, where they found they spent more and more of their time as Ciri grew older and needed less training. They had not one, but  _ two _ handfasting ceremonies; one for Jaskier’s family, who demanded finery and spectacle, and one for him and Geralt, where it was just the two of them in a field of wildflowers. 

Jaskier wasn’t sure who won the bet, but he was pretty sure it was both of them.


End file.
